by London Casey
“Now, you are going to finish this broth, and a piece of bread, no matter how long it takes. Then we are both going to sleep. Separately,” she said. “Appia had a smaller sleeping couch brought in for me.”
She gestured to the opposite wall. Kane was disappointed, and relieved. His body wanted her warmth. Bloody hell, no matter how bad the pain, he wanted her. But he knew it would frustrate him to have her in the same bed when he could barely move his own hand.
While he thought about not sleeping with her, she had been busy. The small table stood next to the sleeping couch, with a tall cup, and bread on a small plate. The scent of meat had his mouth watering, and his stomach clenching in protest.
“Okay—ready?” She sat on the mattress, gently lifting his head until it rested on her thigh. Her breast pressed against his cheek as she leaned over to grab the cup. He wanted her to leave it there for a while. She was so warm, so soft, and he felt cold, from the bones out. “Kane? You’re shivering.” She set the cup down and reached past him. A feather light cover touched his shoulders. “Is that too much? Tell me if it hurts you—I can find something else.”
“Good,” he whispered. That was going to be the last word he used for a while. His throat felt as flayed as his back.
“Okay, let’s try this again.” She took the cup, lifting it to his lips. “Slowly, Kane. Nod when you need to stop.”
The warm, thick broth slid down his throat. It hurt, but it tasted glorious. He wanted to gulp it all down at once, but he knew it wouldn’t stay down. After a couple of swallows he nodded, and she moved the cup.
They kept up the slow routine—sip, swallow, sip, swallow, rest—until the cup was finally empty.
“Can you manage some bread?”
Kane shook his head. The thought of trying to swallow it made his throat hurt more.
Elizabeth kissed his forehead, settled him to the mattress. “You’re warm, but not feverish. Try to sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
He watched her cross the room and sit, flinching as she pulled her right leg up and slid it under the light damask cover. He kept watching, waiting for her to fall asleep. She did, minutes after laying her head down.
Kane closed his eyes, exhausted from the simple task of drinking broth. It scared him, to be so weak among strangers. Then he remembered those strangers had saved his life, stepping in when someone else might have let him die. They cared for Elizabeth, and believed in his innocence when enough proof pointed in his direction to condemn him.
If he let them in, these strangers just might be friends.
Chapter Twelve
Mac cursed at the slow, incompetent console, and slowly typed the information in. Again.
He had them, for a hot second. And lost them before he could fix a location.
Now he worked his way through multiple searches, using what he got from Elizabeth as keywords. He would have been done with his list an eon ago if he hadn’t been working with the oldest system on the stinking planet.
“Damn stupid, ancient—” He was about to kick it, and probably bruise his toes, again, when he heard something his didn’t expect in this part of the building. Other voices.
Worse—Dr. K and that snake Harper were the voices.
Mac hit the shutdown and ran across the small lab, forcing himself under the old desk. The kneehole was made for knees—not a six foot man. A two year old would have fit just fine.
He stopped cursing the new bump on his head and the ache in his injured right side as the door squeaked open.
“This is a part of the building we no longer use, Mr. Harper, because the equipment is obsolete.” Doc’s voice echoed in the mostly empty room.
“I heard—rumors, that an employee was seen here. An employee I was told had evaded my Security, and should no longer be in the building.”
“Mr. Macaffrey?” Mac could almost see her eyebrows raising behind those thick glasses. “Even if he was still here, he wouldn’t touch something this old. He is a technology snob, Mr. Harper. This is so far below his standards it is laughable.”
You can say that again.
The silence was excruciating. Mac pictured every worst case scenario before Harper’s oil slick voice finally broke that silence. “I see what you mean, Dr. Kinimoto. Even my technicians who enjoy the anachronistic equipment would not go near this. I wanted to squash any rumor before it turned into ghost stories of a former employee haunting the halls of the old lab.” His false laughter set Mac’s teeth on edge. “You have eased my concern.”
“Excellent. Then if I may escort you—”
“Wait.”
Mac stilled, afraid he might have left something that proved he’d been here. After Colette’s tongue lashing about his mess and the fact that one candy wrapper could kill him, he was careful not to leave anything around.
He jerked when Harper started talking again.
“If I do discover that anyone without authorization has been using any of the labs,” Mac swore he could feel Harper’s icy gaze, knew he was focused on the desk, “they will be dealt with, severely. Please pass the word.”
“Of course, Mr. Harper.”
Footsteps bounced off the walls as they walked across the lab, and out the door.
Mac waited until he was sure they were on the other side of the building, then waited a few more minutes, just to be safe.
By the time he crawled out of the kneehole, every muscle threatened to cramp. He leaned against the side of the desk, his hands shaking.
If he understood that rat bastard snake, and the way Dr. K verbally bowed to him, then Harper was in charge now. Which meant MI-6 was in charge.
And if that was true, they were royally screwed.
Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth watched Kane struggle as he was forced to let others do for him.
She understood. The loss of control was something she did her best to avoid, even if it meant isolating herself. And she saw it in Kane’s life—the way he kept everyone at arm’s length, friendly but not familiar. Even his position at TimeSearch guaranteed control and isolation. He didn’t work with a partner, and he made his own decisions in the field.
Now he was completely dependent, and she could see it wearing on him.
It left her aching as well, since she was helpless to do anything but watch him, and help when he didn’t notice. At least, she thought he didn’t notice—until a week into his recovery he let her know, loud and clear, over the breakfast they usually shared in the bedroom.
“Move that cup for me again, Elizabeth, and I will throw it at you.”
She knew that tone. He was building a wall again, like he did in Dover. This time she wasn’t going to let it happen.
“I love you, Kane.” He stared at her, obviously surprised by her response to his temper. “I want to make things easier for you, until you get some of your strength back.” She stood, and leaned over the table to kiss his cheek. “Go ahead and complain, and scowl, and snap at me. It lets me know you’re getting better. But don’t you dare try to shut me out again. It won’t work this time.”
He cradled the back of her head as he kissed her, gently, thoroughly, and with the tenderness that always made her knees weak. “Thank you, love. Now get out, before I snap at you again.”
“Hurting?”
He swallowed, nodding his head. “Nothing for you to concern yourself. I’ve been through this before, Beth. I know what to expect.”
And his restless sleep told her that he was reliving some of it, in his dreams.
“Sleep, if you can. Eógan is around, so let him know if you need anything.” She kissed him again. “I’ll be back soon.”
She knew what she was going to do the second he told her to go. Her fingers already itched at the thought. She moved over to her backpack and pulled out the blue notebook, and one of the pens she’d hoarded from the cottage in Dover, tucking them both in a carry bag Appia had loaned her. After a quick deliberation, she grabbed the palla. It would h
elp keep her warm, and conceal paper and pen that didn’t exist yet.
Kane watched her as she turned around, eyebrows raised. “Where are you going?”
“Not far.” She smiled at his frown. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay close by.”
“I will miss you.”
She paused in the doorway, and winked at him. “You better.”
His laughter followed her down the hall. It sounded good to hear him laugh again.
Still smiling, she walked out of the praetorium—and nearly ran into Quintus.
“Oh—I’m sorry. I was—somewhere else.”
He studied her, amusement in his dark eyes. “How is he feeling?”
“Better every day.” She touched Quintus’ forearm. “Thank you, again, for finding him.”
“He is a good man, and didn’t deserve what Villius inflicted.”
“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to hold you up.”
“I was on my way to report to the captain. Villius is demanding to see him.”
Elizabeth didn’t realize she had dug her fingers into his arm until Quintus closed his callous hard hand over hers. She eased her grip. “God—I’m sorry.”
“No harm done.”
“Did he say why he hurt Kane?”
Quintus removed her hand, his voice brisk. “Let it go, Elizabeth. Men like Villius always lay blame outside themselves. The captain and I will find out what we need, before it’s done.”
She took in a shaky breath, and nodded. She knew when she had been dismissed. “I’ll let you get to it.”
He moved past her, and paused in the doorway. “I understand your anger, and I share it. Justice will be served. Remember to stay near the praetorium.”
“I will. Thank you again.”
With a sigh, she watched him as he moved inside, and did as he suggested. She let it go, for now.
Once she stepped away from the praetorium, and on to the main pathway leading through the fort, the noise and the wind slapped her. She forgot, being inside with Kane, that they were in the middle of a thriving community.
With the fort sitting at the top of a steep hill, the nearly constant wind whistled through the canyons created by the buildings. But when Elizabeth moved away from them, to open ground, the wind gentled, tugging at the ends of her hair, running invisible hands over the grass along the wall.
She found an ideal spot, out of the way, but with a nearly panoramic view. Tucking herself into the niche at the end of the praetorium she wrapped the palla so it covered her lap, opened the notebook, and started to draw.
Every worry, every ache, every fear just melted away. Her hand flew over the paper as she sketched, some quick, some more detailed, the composition of people, stone, and nature at her wildest creating an incredible variety of scenes.
Two soldiers standing at the gate, daggers used as pointers as they talked, their armour glinting in the sun. Eógan sprinting out of the praetorium, the wind tossing his wild black hair, his smile as mischievous as his dark blue eyes.
Snippets of life, put down on paper for her to remember, to relive when she left this time, this place—
“What are you doing?”
Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice. She looked up, and met Servius’ wide brown eyes.
“Relaxing,” she said. She let her palla drift over the notebook, pretended it didn’t exist. “How are you?”
“I am well.” He looked surprised that she asked. As usual, he had several scrolls clutched against his chest. “You are here alone.”
“Shouldn’t I be? Appia told me it would be okay, as long as I stayed near the praetorium.”
“A woman should not wander alone. Especially now, with evil among us.” His grip tightened on the scrolls, and Elizabeth noticed the ring when the sun flashed off it.
“I never noticed your ring before now. It’s striking.”
He blinked at her, like he just came out of a trance, and looked down at his hand. “It is common enough. The former commander gave it as a token. Marius offered this to me, as a welcoming gift when I arrived, and I was honored. Before I knew they were handed out like favors.”
“But no one outside the fort will have one.” He studied her, those brown eyes narrowed. “When you travel anywhere, it will be unique. And it’s a beautiful ring. What is that symbol?”
He relaxed, and held out his hand so she could get a closer look. The soft lemongrass scent that always clung to him wafted over her. “It is the Aquila—the Roman Eagle. An important symbol to the military.” The more he described it, the more he smiled. “I suppose it is an honor that the commander gave it to me.”
“I’m glad you think so.” She looked past him, at the moments passing her by, moments she wanted to capture.
“Forgive me,” he said, his voice formal again. “I am disturbing you.” He spun and started to leave.
“Servius—wait.” He stopped, his shoulders stiff. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I get caught up, when I’m observing. There is so much to see here, and you found me in the middle of it. I hope you can accept my apology.”
He reminded her of a boy she had met when she was first put in the foster system. He jumped on the offensive at almost every word said to him. He was exhausting to be around, and Elizabeth had been relieved, if guilty about it, when he was taken in by a family soon after.
Slowly, Servius relaxed, and turned around. “I can accept it, as I know you are sincere.”
She bit back a sigh. “I am. You were on your way somewhere?”
“To bring some papers to the commander.” She noticed he only called Marius by name once—when he was angry about the ring. “I should go. He will be waiting on me.”
“It was a pleasure to see you again.”
A flush stained his cheeks, and he nodded. “And you, Elizabeth.”
He hustled off, glancing back at her more than once. She kept smiling until he disappeared, then let out the sigh she’d held back earlier. Someone had a crush on her—and she didn’t quite know what to do with that. It was her first time.
She decided to just let it run its course. They’d be leaving, and Servius already knew she was tied to Kane, even if the marriage part of it wasn’t true.
Putting it aside, she stood and gathered her things, the connection lost for the day.
But she planned to come out here tomorrow, and every day she could manage to get away. It had been too long since she let herself go and just created.
When she returned to the praetorium, Hild stopped her in the courtyard.
“I just took a tray into him. He is angry. I think because of the pain,” she said, staring down at the mosaic on the floor. “I know he did not mean to shout at me…”
“Of course not, Hild.” Elizabeth gently touched the girl’s shoulder. She was as skittish as a wild deer, obviously uncomfortable away from Appia’s home. “Thank you, for looking after him. For looking after us. I know it’s been extra work for you.”
She shrugged, and eased out from under Elizabeth’s hand. “I am here to work.”
Before Elizabeth could say anything else, she scurried back toward the kitchen.
“Damn.” She understood that Hild was a slave, and that slavery was just a part of daily life for these people. That didn’t mean she agreed with it.
At least Marius and Appia treated their slaves well—more like servants than slaves. She wasn’t sure how much she’d like them if it had been different.
Halfway down the hall to their room she heard Kane, cursing in several languages. He only did that when he was really angry, or in more pain than he’d let on.
She took a deep breath, and walked into the room.
Kane leaned against the far wall, so pale she expected him to pass out before she got to him.
“What is it?” She wanted to grab on to him, but she also didn’t want to hurt him.
“Muscle—spasm.” He spit the words out, and sank to his knees. “Bloody hell.”
He lifted his head, and looked surprised that she asked. “Beth—”
“You don’t have to deal with this alone, Kane. Not this time.”
“Can you—” A harsh gasp cut him off. “Water.”
“Stay here.” She grabbed the glazed pitcher off the tray and knelt beside him, holding it while he took long, greedy swallows. “Better?”
“Thank you.” He reached up for the windowsill with his left hand, and froze halfway. “Damn—”
“Arm around me.” She ducked under his frozen arm, draped it over her shoulders. “We go on three. One, two, three—”
His muscles shook as she helped him stand. Together they got him to the bed, and Elizabeth sat with him, not letting go until he relaxed against her.
“All right,” he whispered.
“You are not all right. What were you trying to do?” He stared at the floor. “Kane?”
“Walk without the bloody damn cane.” His head snapped up, those clear grey eyes dark with pain. “I can’t even make it across the bedroom on my own.”
“Hey.” She touched his hand. “You just started healing. There’s no machine, no insta-better here. You’re going to have to do it the old fashioned way.”
“What would that be?”
“Time and effort.”
“I like my way better.”
She smiled. “I bet you do.”
“Beth.” He looked at her, and the despair on his face left her breathless. “Stay with me?”
“Oh, Kane.” She reached up to frame his face, to make sure he looked right at her when she spoke the next words. “You never have to ask.”
“I cannot live like this.”
“You’ll get better. You already have.”
“I am sorry.”
“Don’t you ever be sorry.” She searched his face, her heart pounding at the grief, the pain he tried to hide from her. “And don’t you feel like you need to protect me, from anything. I’m here, for whatever you need, and I’m not going anywhere.”